


Dubcon Soda Drinking

by squeezedoutofmiracles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Chucklevoodoos, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, NSFW, TAB soda, Threesome - F/M/M, dubcon soda drinking, egregious misuse of a chair, literally shooting the messenger, poor workplace etiquette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezedoutofmiracles/pseuds/squeezedoutofmiracles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They start off with a very serious and political discussion and GHB grows bored of it and commands Darkleer to pick Redglare up and bring her over to the throne. </p>
<p>Then they do it. Boom."</p>
<p>illustrated by teenywolfqueen.tumblr.com :o*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dubcon Soda Drinking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleBaguette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBaguette/gifts).



> sweet dreams are made of this  
> who am I so disagree

The Highblood vessel, loitering in deep space half way between The Empress' galaxy-jumper and The Citadel, was a huge lazy shadow that sulked like a well fed deep sea monster. It had no intentions of going anywhere it wasn't needed instantly, with the occupants mostly sleeping off the spoils of all-colours festivities or fucking the perma-night away.

There were only a few points of unrest throughout the radiant Apocalypse-Class Strike Cruiser, but the most notable one was E%ecutor Darkleer, the most trusted plenipotentiary of His Regal Honkness, and also happened to be a _constant_ point of unrest. Horuss had been pretty much stressed without exception since he'd reached 3 perigees, and festivities didn't exactly ease the worries that constantly plagued him. Most of the responsibilities of organising everything fell to him, since he was also charged with making sure the party planning committee didn't cull each other.

He scuttled through the cavernous corridors which were built tall enough to house two full size highbloods on top of one another (they had a habit of stacking up when they were in a good mood), navigating the whimsically arranged sub-passages and sub-sub-passages to find the troll he'd been sent to retrieve. It wasn't too much difficulty sinc there was no troll still standing that knew the ship as well as he did. He'd overseen countless repairs on it and trekked each mile of corridor too many times to bare thinking on. So finding the Lady Redglare was easy.

Knocking softly was a difficulty but he managed it, listening intently for a grunt on the other side before he entered.

She sat at a desk piled with papers, yellowed and purpled and crushed under all manner of whimsical paperweights that he knew The Highblood had grown fond of gifting to her (said it was the only form of whimsy she would willingly bear), scrawling ferverently on a new pad and scowling like she was trying to will Darkleer to leave the room without speaking. He was loathe to interrupt her, knew how her being around The Highblood worked him up and made him difficult to deal with, but he couldn't disobey a direct order to retrieve her.

He cleared his throat before speaking and she drove the nib of her quill straight through the parchment, growling and flattening her ears back as she shot a look at him through winged red glasses.

"I'm told it's an emergency." He said coolly, raising an eyebrow.

She made an even louder noise of frustration.

"When is it _not_ an emergency?"

"When is it your position to question His judgement?"

She scoffed, yanking the frenzybeast quill from the dent in the desk and shunting it into the bin instead. "When he became my employer?"

Darkleer made an unimpressed noise, raising an eyebrow in a motion that took far more concentration and control than he would have admitted, and gestured to the door. The Lady Redglare weighed up the options on the two sided weight pans always swaying in her mind and decided that the emergency was probably her duty to attend, whether or not it turned out to be another crock of hoofbeast refuse.

She shoved herself off the chair with a grumble, eyes down and cane snatched up on the way, sweeping it about and sweeping it hard into Darkleer's ankle on the way out, smacking it into a bruise she'd already primed in that exact area. It took every ounce of control he had, and a few cracked teeth, not to make the same yelp he'd made the first few times she'd taken him by surprise but he managed it. The pride of a navy was not something to be sniffed at, and the neophyte had come to recognise that over time. She'd come to recognise it as something to be tested. Unfortunately.

Redglare led out of the room, giving a few token sweeps with her cane to make sure nothing had been dropped outside her door, turning through well learned corridors towards the throne room where The Highblood held meetings. She had been summoned more than enough times to know where she had to go by now, but Darkleer still paced a little faster than usual to make sure he held a lead on her. They padded side by side, footfalls light on the well padded carpets, plush and luscious in the guest quarters, no echoes bouncing off the tapestry-lined walls.

Her nose wrinkled up as they passed the particularly sour-smelling depictions of past victorious genocides, the deliberately muddy colours smeared across the bottom of the tapestries as gunk under the highbloods boots. Probably more than was strictly realistic, although both trolls had been at executions before and could testify that trolls held more blood than you'd expect. The puddle spread went a long way.

Their route was familiar. The most well-trod carpet in the whole cruiser was the one that led between His Highness' throne room and Lady Redglare's quarters, for all manner of reasons. There was no remote answering system onboard the ship, since it deeply violated several core values of the Messiah's cult (most notably commandment 6 - shit always be personal), but there was a loophole that allowed messengers to be sent instead of the auditory electronic pulses that the rest of the kingdom had come to favour. So Darkleer found himself carrying messages between the two of them, sometimes vital business messages but more often it was The Highblood asking if Redglare had any dinner plans followed by an expression that was hard to communicate.

But this time shit be REALLY personal, so face to face was all that would cut it. She had been summoned, and he had been sent to collect her, and she knew better than to try and worm out of it. It never ended well when she managed to skirt his plans.

"How bad is it?" She finally asked, walking briskly alongside the far heavier and wider form of the blueblood. He glanced down to her and barely needed to think, the answer had been obvious.

"Bad. He was throwing things. Precious things." He reached up to reposition his goggles exceedingly carefully, thinking he would probably need them if Faygo projectiles got involved. "The bust of Highblood Fieree is now extremely valuable and sacred dust. May his soul rejoice eternal, woop woop." He tacked on the traditional highblooded words of respect, and Redglare snorted openly. She had been spared the expectation to act in accordance with the rules of the church. It was something Darkleer was more than a little jealous of.

"I wonder. Maybe they decided to stop making redpop?" She grinned, a row of impeccably sharp fangs glittering behind dark lips.

Darkleer shot her a look. "That would be unlikely, due to the fact that His Auspicious Hilarity is the sole troll with the power to make those decisions."

"Maybe he's just throwing his entertainment chews out of the wriggler carriage again then." She suggested, though the smash that punctuated her point with timing that was almost musical with accuracy. Something heavy had been heaved into a wall, and she gritted her teeth a little as she walked. "He's unbearable when he's like this." She muttered, pushing her glasses up her nose. Darkleer straightened a bit, affronted at the suggestion that she knew more about his moods than he did. She may have known him since they ascended together but he was the one that had to deal with The Highblood's every demand and whimsy. She was out of his reach as much as possible, which was something that you had to admire because he had a famously long reach.

The doors to the throne room were remarkably ornate and bloody, even within a ship whose defining features were 'bloody' and 'ornate'. They had skulls of all shapes carved into the colours, edges scratchy and rough like claws had been snapped crafting them. The hues were earthy, obviously exclusively... Organic. They were soaked into the iron, older than most trolls on the ship, the ship itself older than some star systems. The door had so many coats of gore on it that it stuck out a foot thicker on either side than when it had been new. The Blood Gates that guarded The Highblood were a sight to behold, but Darkleer had seen them far too many times to be awed by them any more, and Redglare knew to hold her breath when they stopped before entering.

There was another smash on the other side, and even Darkleer hesitated a moment before steeling himself and pushing open the blast doors and entering the throne room.

It was cooler inside. The room had never seen the light of a moon or sun, with fires of all colours glittering in braces on the walls, throwing light over the friezes that filled the walls right to the arches of the ceilings. A fresh splatter of violet dripped slowly from a body that was nearly empty at the foot of the steps to the great throne. The body of The Grand Highblood was wrought up in movement against the wall, heaving another artefact from its plinth and hurling it to the floor.

It crossed Darkleer's mind that one day they were going to run out of things for him to smash. That would be a dangerous day.

The pair stood in quiet, Lady Redglare sniffing discretely and wondering if she could sneak out before he noticed them. She was in no mood to deal with this nonsense; she'd dealt with far too many sweeps of it already. There were some hot leads getting cold in her block. Things like this tended to take a while.

With a grunting grating breath The Highblood turned around, mane matted against his face, lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that got etched deep into his face when he worked himself up. Long curving yellowed teeth overhung his lips like Spears hanging over a castles ramparts, violet gummed between them from the execution that lay sprawled across the floor.

"Heresy." He hissed, tense and coiled and claws twitching together with the urge to grab and tear something.

"What?"

The Lady Redglare seemed to be in no mood to entertain his rambling.

"I SAID, my most waxing vacillation, that a most _grievous_ motherfucking HERESY has taken place!" He was snarling and roaring in turn, paw flung out towards the body of the violet that was sprawled in front of his throne like it had been trying to crawl away before the final blow had felled it.

"And you dealt with the heretic." She said, arms crossing over her chest. "Or did you want to show it off?"

A smile twisted onto his face and Darkleer's hands tightened on the grip of his bow, until the metal creaked under his fingers.

"No, my dearest motherfucker, I did not." He murmured back, voice dropped low. Her face was carefully guarded as he started to move, straightening up a little as he slunk over to the throne in the middle of the room. It rose from the floor to stretch towards the ceiling, rippled by steps that a troll of usual size would have to strain to climb although the huge form of The Highblood ascended with no change from his usual gait. He carried power so easily on his shoulders.

"He was a messenger." The Highblood explained, eyes cast down to the body with his lip curled in distaste. His tongue flickered along his teeth, taking another smear of violet with it. "Straight from the ranks of Her Imperious Condescention. She's showing off again." He lifted a hand to his mouth and wiped the back of it against his lips before spitting, settling back looking disgusted.

There was a pause that stretched out a few beats too long before Darkleer spoke up. "What was the message, sir?"

"BOY AM I GLAD YOU MOTHERFUCKIN ASKED!" The Highblood roared back, instant, words coming before Darkleer had the chance to close his maw.

The room thrummed with tension that had been brewing since the violet's ship had docked in the guest port. It was close to breaking.

"He brought AN OFFICIAL MOTHERFUCKIN SUMMONS! A STATEMENT! FROM _Condesce_ HERSELF! HE WAS SO MOTHERFUCKIN _PRESUMPTUOUS_ AS TO SWAN ALL UP IN HERE, unescorted he was, all on his lonesome, individual and armed with HIDDEN MOTHERFUCKIN BLADES!" The most egregious of affronts. To come into his throne room, the heart of their Church, the centre of highblooded settlement, and bear hidden arms. It was almost a declaration of war.

"And then," His voice dropped again to a hiss, fingers sinking into the arm of the throne. "He said he brought TIDINGS of a collaboration. Between sea and land, between the two sides of trollkind, called us TWO SIDES OF A CEAGER!" He barked a laugh, still twisting his claws into the armrest. "Said we should share and share alike, as..." His teeth were going to break soon with how hard they were gritting. "As " _Our Messiahs_ " would have wanted."

The fish had had a death wish. If a speech had been written for him then the writer had wanted him dead, no doubt. How could he be so recklessly stupid? How could he presume knowledge of the messiahs wishes, and how could he have the globes to tell The Grand Highblood what they wanted of him?

"Oh but that was not ALL dears..." He added on, hand rising bloody from the gnarled arm of the chair, fingers curved into a pursed point like a caricature of the foppish seadwellers, how they were portrayed by the jesters of the night at great feasts. "No, because he said we were to share profit!"

"Profit..?" Redglare finally spoke, frowning a little. Her mask was failing a little, at the confusion that The Highblood was weaving.

"They want money?" Darkleer asked, voice guarded and flat. This sounded like war. It sounded like the Empress was trying to start a war, but who could ever presume to know how her mind worked, shrouded with all that hair, full of secrets, though he could make an educated guess. He could assume she wanted a rise out of them, because she was bored...

"Nothing so simple." He spat back. "They want to give us money. Half the ceagers they make in the soda market."

The soda market? The seadwellers had no foothold in the soda market, everyone knew that, it was the subjugglators that kept a stranglehold on it, flooding the throats of the civilians with every flavour of Faygo under the sun, pouring it down their throats and raking in the rewards to line their coffers.

"With their BRAND NEW MOTHERFUCKING PRODUCT!"

The can appeared from nowhere, slamming down on the armrest before the echo of The Highblood's roar had even died from the chambers. Hard to see in the subjugglator's huge clawed hand, though once he drew back the flashy pink of the metal was obvious. It looked glittery, and it had the strictly seadweller scrawl looping over the outside. The Highblood looked at it like he wanted to hatefuck it into oblivion.

"Oh no." Darkleer said softly, even before The Highblood had started talking again, in a wavy wobbly seadweller's brogue.

"EVWEN MOORE SUGER THAN YOUR /WVWVICKED ELICKSA/ HIGHBLOOD!" He cawed, wrist limp as he gestured to it like it was the new must-have accessory. "ONE MIGHT EVWVWVWVEN SAY... FOUR TWVWVWVWENTY TIMES?"

"Oh no." Darkleer whispered again, hands trembling a little as he looked like he wanted to shrink in on himself. This was war. This was so much war. All of it.

 

 

"There's no law against making a soda drink." Redglare said, looking a little ruffled and keeping her nostrils flared to the smell of The Highblood seething in his chair.

"What about lying to spite the church?" He hissed, leaning forwards with gritted teeth. "There's no way they could pack more sugar in, believe me we have motherfucking TRIED. They either harnessed the power of the motherfucking sun to shove more stardust into that shit or they're a shoal of motherfuckin liars and I reckon I know which one I'm leanin towards..." His face was still twisted up with rage, teeth gritted as he talked.

Darkleer interrupted before Redglare could speak, knowing whatever she could say would be a mistake. She had a divine power for winding him up, and yet his emotions for her still stained red. It was one of his more tender miracles, certainly.

"If it's illegal then we'll find it. There's no way their new fancy is any better than our age-old elixir; and the masses will taste that. Have you... Tried it?" He asked, hesitating slightly as he asked. He felt like he was making a mistake but didn't know what else to offer.

"Of course not." He scoffed, leaning back in his seat and looking down at it. "Wouldn't taint my motherfuckin taste slab with that shit. Downright blasphemous. Most disgusting heresy I ever heard."

"How are you supposed to know if it's as packed with sugar as the fish claimed, then?" Redglare pointed out cooly, ears tipped back with disproval, both hands clasped over her dragon headed cane.

The look The Highblood fixed her with could have frozen the warmest blood right on its way through her arteries. She caught wind of it immediately but refused to unstiffen, an eyebrow raising to challenge him.

"An excellent point, my lady." He replied, voice equally cool and level. "Perhaps one of us should act on your most wise council. Darkleer."

He was frankly tired of being a taste tester for things like this, especially since it was probably poisoned, but Darkleer sighed and shifted forwards all the same.

"Bring the fine Lady Redglare to me."

They both froze, looking up at him, at the curve of his stare and the molten orange of his sclera. He looked like a beserker. He looked ready to cleave a planet in two.

"Horuss don't you dare..." Redglare whispered, hands tightening on her cane, stepping back a little as her own cold sweat clouded up her scent sniffers.

Darkleer was stuck between them, looking from one to the other, ears wilted and feet cemented to the floor.

"Horuss. That's an order." The Highblood followed up, taking the TAB can in hand and rolling it between calloused fingers. He dropped his eyes to the scrawl, already knowing Horus was powerless to resist a direct order from a superior. Especially him, his most supreme superior of them all. The most top notched motherfucker of them all. Couldn't nobody pull rank on him. His orders were law, were hot and undisputed, bound him like iron and honour. He was the judge and Darkleer was the executioner.

His hands were closing around Redglare's shoulders before she could smell the encroaching wall of deep blue sweat, and to her credit she only struggled a little. She kicked, landing a solid one to his thigh plate, causing him to grunt and stumble slightly but too soon he was at the top of the steps, holding her up until all she could smell was the tide of badly matched purples.

The sound of the TAB can hissing open was solitary in the crisp silence of the hall, and a slight whimper wiggled its way out of one of the warmbloods throats. They would both deny ownership.

A hand came to rest heavy on her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her lips with a claw tip, almost opening their fullness and spilling teal down her chin, but careful enough to leave her perfectly intact and flawless.

"Open up, neophyte." He murmured, disgustingly gentle. She pressed her lips together for a second, sucking in a last breath through her nose before opening dark flushed lips and gagging at the coldness pressed to them. She drank down the soda as quickly and painlessly as she could, though Darkleer's fingers pressed an ache into her muscles as they tightened around her arms, and letting a little spill over when The Highblood tipped the can up past half way. He didn't let it fall away until she had finished it, and Darkleer's hands loosened around her shoulders to let her feet drop back to the floor, relieved and shiny when she swallowed the last of it.

"How was it?" The Highblood muttered, wearing a filthy shit eating smirk as he leaned in closer, eyeing up her lips.

She refused to lick away the brown that trickled down her chin as she stared him down, breathing heavy.

"Exactly as bad as the swill you serve up." She spat back.

"Oh, we'll have to see about that shit, won't we?" He murmured, smirking as he leaned closer, a hand snaking its way around her waist and pulling her in. She made an enraged noise, refusing to bend to his advances, no matter how deep her spade ached at his caliginous torment. He didn't feel this way, not genuinely, he wanted her with a distinctly more flushly hue but believed in star crossed quadrants enough to quad-jump like a lovestruck fool. It was **infuriating**.

He dragged his tongue over her chin, licking up the dregs, drinking in the noise of her chew stubs grinding together, rumbling a chuckle in the cave of his thorax.

It was only a few seconds before she broke, throwing herself forwards with her hands going to his hair to tear and pull, try and find a clean streak in amongst the fetid mess, to grab onto and lock her fingers around, and yank at it with all the strength she had. He reciprocated immediately, hand sliding around her to cup the dip of her back, pressing her closer, spreading his thighs and pulling her against his front as his lips parted hungrily and he drank in her noises with growls of his own.

Her hands found his ears and claws almost pierced through the back, rage inconsolable, she needed to tear at him and rip blood from him, to make him ache and sting and curse, to draw new pain from that disgusting carcass and make him rue the day he decided to have her in his quadrants.

"Fuck, sweet, it's been too long..." He snickered, wrapping both arms around her and grinning against her lips.

"I'm not your fucking sweet." She hissed, incensed, teeth clamping down on his lower lip and pulling, leaving a bloody trickle in her wake until he hissed, snarling and kissing harder until there was no room for her to get at his lips, not with a tongue shoved up against her own and his claws pressing into the divot between her shoulders and causing her to recoil and press against his chest, clothes already straining against how they arched together.

Horuss watched from where he had been left and dripped anxiously.

This wasn't the first time a meeting had turned into a makeout session. But it didn't get any easier being the most high ranking third wheel in the galactic kingdoms.

Though The Grand Highblood was an exceptionally considerate superior. In fact, when he saw Darkleer over there all on his lonesome it just pulled on his pusher in ways that plant ideas in your pan. And he had a lot of motherfucking ideas that could use an extra mouth.

"HORUSS." He barked, a smirk already wound up on his lips. "Come on an make yourself useful..." He chuckled, as Redglare growled against his jaw and sunk her teeth down in protest. All he did was moan and puncture holes in her shirt, lifting a hand to beckon Darkleer closer. "You bet your ass that's a motherfuckin order..."

When Darkleer stumbled forwards on legs that seemed to listen before his pan did, The Highblood tipped his face back down to the crook of Redglare's throat and pushed her collar aside to expose smooth grey skin paler than his own, with only a few welts from various teeth over the years, and slight lasting imperfections from under the flogger of the school feeder who'd rounded her into a fully fledged neophyte. He sank his mouth against it regardless, groaning against her skin and crushing her closer as her thighs spread around his leg, hips rocking down against him in a slow hateful grind as his hand found its place on the curvature of her ass and helped along, with him snickering against her collar bone until she nipped down hard on his ear with a snarl.

"Oh come on, m'lady, play nice..." He grinned to her, eyeing up Darkleer over her shoulder.

She almost blacked up his ear.

"Do NOT call me that!" She squawked, and he howled with laughter as he ducked away from her fist. When she shifted to swing again he ducked and turned her around in huge hands, swivelling her on his leathery knee to face Darkleer, expression a mask of fury and confusion before his hands landed on the insides of her thighs and parted them with a rumbling chuckle behind her ear, fingers stroking slowly along the insides of her legs and the softest hide that covered them.

"C'mon, Darkleer, get a mouthful of that tartberry nook an lemme know if it's worth tastin..." The Highblood muttered, one hand running up her front to get a handful of breast as she strained to sink her teeth into something of his, and at the same time shoved her hands down at the waistband of her tunic to unlatch it. Her clothes were getting far too restrictive.

The blueblood stumbled forwards, finding his place on his knees before The Highblood (and Redglare, though he was trying to pretend she wasn't there), and looking down to the teal stain spreading between her thighs. She hissed when she could feel him hesitating, losing patience and shoving her pants down her damn self, kicking out a leg to pull them off and instead hooking her calf over Darkleer's shoulder with a curve of her lip into a sneer.

"Well, come on pony-boy." She muttered, getting a big long sniff and getting nothing but jelly and sweat.

"Get to work." GHB agreed, running his hands over Redglare's torso again and smirking to her when Darkleer landed heavy hands on her knees, looking up to them again until slender fingers grabbed onto one of his horns and yanked him closer by it, thigh wrapping around his throat and pulling him close so he landed open-mouthed against her nook.

Surprisingly this wasn't the first time this had happened. The Highblood liked pailing and often didn't save his enthusiasms for outside of work time, so Darkleer had been witness to more than a couple of tangles between him and Redglare since she had been hired. He'd been pulled into a fair few too. Not that he was ever best pleased about it; he would much rather it had been just the two of them; he and The Highblood would have made a much better pair in his opinion, though there were no quadrants mutually shared between any of them. It was all she-spades-him and he-hearts-her and he-hearts-him in a huge quadcom storyline that had them running round like nugless cluckbeasts.

The Highblood enjoyed the chase. He was always of the mind that he would win through sheer stubbornness sooner or later, and that every troll alive would bend to his whims, but Redglare was proving a worthy rival. Or at least, she saw herself as his rival. He saw her as an object of his affections. Though both were more than happy to fuck despite their disagreements on what to call themselves.

An unholy mess, was what Darkleer tended to call them.

Darkleer had been there for longer than she had. He'd dealt with more of his shenanigans than she had. By all rights he deserved The Highblood's affections (he would have taken them black or red, however they flowed easiest) more than she did, but neither troll listened to reason and so they were tangled up in a quadrant flipping drama more turbulent and emotional than the bestselling lightscreen presentation in all of paradox space.

And The Highblood knew this, of course. He knew everything about Darkleer. Those voodoos didn't help matters, and led to things being made worse for everyone involved.

Hence how he ended up on his knees between the thighs of the Lady Redglare, tongue dipping into a warm flushed nook when it should have been a cooler one, hands cupping her thighs to his cheeks as he closed his eyes and tried his best to imagine it was him, that he was coming undone under a skillful tongue and making soft noises and calling his name and crooning for him and maybe purring because that was so sweet, and he didn't see a sweet side of Kurloz often enough-

He made a short strangled noise when a heavy hand landed in his hair and pushed him against her nook harder, met with a gasp from the tealblood as her hips canted down against him at the new harder pressure, the top edge of her nook brushing the bridge of his nose and drawing a keening noise out of him.

"Try not to think so motherfuckin loudly..." He hissed, and when Darkleer looked up in a surge of panic he could see a shimmery film of voodoos just starting to border his oculars. "Putting me out of the mood with that shit..." He rumbled with a warning snarl. Darkleer's ears wilted and he nodded as best he could with heavy fingers in his hair, and not now boner please, this is not the time to drag things out, no matter how firm his grip is and how delicious it might feel in his hair and what kind of lovely shocks it might send shuddering down his spine straight to his-

GHB's face seemed to light up at the mention of the word 'boner' inside Darkleer's pan, eyes lighting up all manner of purple shades as his voodoos took hold of the word and blew it up right big inside Darkleer's pan.

_**_BONER!!!_ ** _

**WELCOME TO BONER TOWN, POPULATION DARKLEER!**

**WOW ISN'T THAT UNCOMFORTABLE DOWN THERE IN YOUR PANTS?**

**BET YOU WANNA DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT, HUH?**

Yes, yes he does, he wants to touch it and have The Highblood watch and maybe join in a little?

**NO, NOT THAT, YOU WANT TO PUT IT IN SOMETHING DON'T YOU?**

Oh yes... maybe?

**YES YOU DO**

Yes, definitely.

He rose to his feet, unaware his eyes were going all manner of pretty shades of purple and pink, hands trailing off Redglare's thighs to her shoulders instead, one going to cup a boob, and when she made a noise of disgust and confusion she only had to look up to his eyes to see he wasn't acting entirely under his own influence.

"Forget it." She hissed as his hand went down to his belt and almost ripped the tunic pants off.

"Awh, come on lady..." The Highblood wheedled back, chuckling and honking on her boob persuasively. "It'll be fun..."

"I said forget it." She said venomously. "He isn't putting that thing in me." That Thing had been unleashed, and he was starting on his top, pulling it off along with his headgear, voodoo eyes gleaming brighter when his goggles came off.

"How's about a compromise?" He offered, honking her boob again, slower and more sensually. She grouched harder, baring her teeth until a hand slid down to wrap around her bulge, a warm blueblooded hand, and one of Darkleer's legs lifted to show the seam of his nook, translucent with how slick he was already growing, on display to her as The Highblood guided him.

"We can share?" The Highblood chuckled, rubbing a hand down her side slow and easy. "It's a big motherfuckin throne..."

"Fine." She hissed, moving when she was shoved to make room for the blueblood to join them, a hateful little pinch to her thigh shifting her along as Darkleer all but scrambled onto The Highblood's lap, arms going around his throat, gasping and grabbing at his hair, trying to kiss at him but only managing a mouthful of jaw before he was spun around and Redglare was between his knees, bulge out and lapping at his nook.

"Pity I'm a big motherfucker..." The Highblood grunted. "Reckon you couldn't fit the both of us. I'll just have to let our lady go first..."

Darkleer keened, desperate, pressing back into The Highblood's touch. He didn't realise the influence was barely skirting his pan any more. Soon he'd be acting entirely under his own steam.

She sank into him with a groan in the same time that The Highblood took a handful of Darkleer's hair and pulled, hard. He cried out, head thrown back against The Highblood's shoulder, and the highblooded troll only laughed, shushing him and lifting a hand to grab onto his jaw.

"Woah there..." He snickered, as Redglare snapped her hips forwards again and he gave another bubbly whimper. "Calm it, boy. Easy there..." He was snickering again, whilst Redglare fixed him with the most hateful face.

"He's so cold." She grunted, making a disgusted face as The Highblood slipped a hand around Darkleer's length and started stroking, rocking his own clothed bulge against his ass as Darkleer pressed back to try and feel more of it. It wasn't going in his ass, no matter how hard he tried. That monster would split him in two, and it had taken forever to train him up from young.

"Nothin on me, 'Tula." He promised, grinning up at her and pursing his lips for a kiss that never came. He laughed it off with a snicker, getting a harsher handful of Horuss' hair and yanking, really getting to testing that motherfucker's resolve. With that delicious spike of pain down the motherfucker's pan out leaked the last of his influence too, under the guise of a twitching bulge the distract the motherfucker.

"I'd give your bulge motherfuckin frostbite, you midblooded motherfuckin heathen..." He hissed, eyes going to her cleavage where he knew a cooled shackles pendant swung in the throes of pailing. He'd torn it off once, with his teeth, swallowed it and she'd damn near cut him open to get it back again.

Darkleer was making all manner of pitiful noises, begging and all that, hands going to the cloth of Kurloz's thighs to try and get at the skin underneath in a frenzy, claws ripping through a seam until his fingers could press against cool scarred flesh.

"Oh, get fucked, Horuss, these were new..." Kurloz hissed, yanking hard on his hair and drawing another long helpless noise from him. He was so eager, wanting to feel that bulge, wanting to grind on it and come undone on it and cry out for Kurloz when he finished.

Redglare was having a grand old time, hands on Horuss' hips as she thrusted into him and pretended like The Highblood would ever let her fuck him, like she'd ever be able to get him on his back in a blackrom tussle.

"May motherfuckin turn then." He demanded, shoving back Latula until she was forced out of Darkleer and he was crying out for more again, pushing back against The Highblood and clawing at the arm rests. She was almost spitting with rage at her rival for taking away her bulge sheath but he was a very considerate quadrant mate, as almost instantly Darkleer was bent over and his mouth was round her bulge, with two teal hands in his hair to steady him back into a rhythm, bobbing his head quickly as one of his hands shivered to her hip for purchase, and The Highblood lined up to one of the only motherfuckers he'd ever met who'd willingly take his whole motherfucking length without splitting.

Horuss was warmth and rapture, he was blissful tight, but then so were all motherfuckers nookways, and when The Highblood breeched him he groaned, broken and undoing, shuddering around Latula's bulge until she had to get a handful of his horn to steady him again and open up his throat for her to shove down. His eyes were wide when she skewered him between her bulge and Kurloz's, fixing him between two points he couldn't wriggle off, not like he was putting up much of a fight.

The Highblood started to laugh, hands going to Horuss' hips as he rocked into him and pushed him up against Latula's bulge to take a little extra. He didn't stop chortling, and soon it escalated into giggling, and Redglare knew that if he carried on sounding happy a moment longer her bulge was going to die right there in the sad cavern of Darkleer's mouth.

"What's so funny?" She hissed, giving a particularly cruel thrust that had Darkleer moaning.

"We're the most powerful motherfuckers on the planet." He giggled back, gesturing to the three of them, one spit-roasted between the bulges of the other two, all sticky with blood and sweat and soda, fucking the tension away. "We're judge jury an executioner for everyone that's livin." He leaned in closer, smirk almost grazing her lips as he twisted another lock of hair round his fingers. "Right the fuck here." He murmured, slapping Darkleer's ass for emphasis.

He made a noise around her bulge like a croon but more desperate, shoving up against him and crying out as the stretch worsened, and he panted, panted a plea and an apology and both of their names garbled into one.

"Please, please, oh ffffiddle, I'm so close, so good, please..."

The Highblood leaned in and snagged Redglare's lips in a kiss, teeth catching on her lips and tearing them open, catching her surprised, crushing up against Darkleer as the motherfucker's nook spasmed around him in his orgasm, milking him, drawing him in deep because they weren't nothing but animals, no bucket to hand. Redglare was spilling into Darkleer's mouth, teal dripping over his chin as he tried his best to swallow. Their release lit them up, a hot chill chasing down their spines, crushing them closer together, leaving them breathless and panting as The Highblood fell back into his throne and pulled Horuss with him, both of them splattered colours of the cooler end of the spectrum.

Redglare stood on shivering legs, nose screwed up against the stench of the lot of them, her own teal door the only saving grace in the sour stink that clouded the rest of the room.

"So now," She said, wiping her hands on her tunic and resting them on her hips as she sniffed out a whiff of drying violet in the corner of the room, nodding to the corpse littered at the bottom of the stairs. "What are we going to do about him?"

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful illustration was by teenywolfqueen.tumblr.com, please check them out, they deserve all of the commissions
> 
> http://teenywolfqueen.tumblr.com/post/114683817029/check-the-captions-on-the-pictures-im-opening-up


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